Regret
by elm77
Summary: Brennan does not want to regret. The aftermath of Booth and Hanna's break up. Can the partners regain their magical chemistry?
1. Chapter 1

**Brennan**

Booth had been unable to start his car this morning, so I was driving to his apartment to pick him up. I had been at the Jeffersonian for four hours already, my mind already focused on the minutiae of the case, as the sun climbed the magenta sky.

I had a slow thumping pain behind my eyes that heralded the arrival of a migraine as I climbed up the stairs to his apartment. I rubbed absently at my naso-glabellar fold, before knocking the door, and pushing it open. I called out his name, my eyes sweeping his apartment.

It had been a long time since I had visited here last, and it pained me to notice the vase of white chrysanthemums on the table, and the cream pashmina thrown casually over the sofa. Hannah's touches. I walked down the hallway, wondering where he was. The apartment appeared and sounded empty, yet he knew I was en route.

I pushed open his bedroom door, unable to stop myself. It was perhaps a foolish gesture, the rumpled sheets and tangled duvet, evidence of his sexual relationship with Hannah. I turned to leave, the throbbing pain above my orbit intensifying, but something caught my eye.  
Like a moth attracted to an impossibly bright flame, I walked into his room, my eyes on the small, velvet box on the dresser. My heart throbbed uncomfortably in my chest; I had not realized their relationship had reached this level of commitment.

I was unable to stop myself from picking up the box, opening the lid. The lazy morning sunlight glinted off the diamond, conjuring miniature rainbows that bounced in the air. I gasped, the secretion of adrenaline in my stomach making me nauseous. I quickly shut the box, before placing it back on the dresser and fleeing his room. I made it to the kitchen before he came through the door, surprise on his face.  
"Bones, I was just dropping off the garbage. Shall we go?"  
I nodded mutely, striding ahead of him.

I had been wrong when I thought my heart had been crushed before.  
The pain was nothing compared to this.

I drove us to the lab, answering Booth's questions with monosyllables, unable to remove the image of the ring from my mind.

I hoped Hannah realized just how lucky she was...

**Booth**

had it all planned out. I was thinking of doing it on Valentine's Day, but I knew that Hannah would think it trite, so I was going to do it tonight, a Wednesday in the middle of February. Not a significant day, but hopefully one to remember.

I had bought the ring the week before, a simple solitaire on a gold band, Hannah didn't wear much silver. I'd have had to have bought Bones a platinum ring – I know how she loves silver.  
I seemed to be having these obscure thoughts about my partner at the most inopportune times.

I wondered what Sweets would make of that. Probably would say I still have feelings for her or something. I do, I love her, I'll always love her, and she's my best friend, well, maybe not my best friend anymore, since Hannah came into my life.

I squirmed uncomfortably on the chair, hating myself for this confliction. I love Hannah, I want to marry her, and I want her to be the mother of my children, even though I know she's not quite ready for that. Just like you wanted Bones, that nagging voice in my head said. You dreamed of her, of her being your wife and having your baby.

And you were so happy.

I rubbed at my eyes, at the sudden headache that always seemed to accompany thoughts of Bones these days. I twisted the box over and over in my hand, knowing the decision shouldn't be this hard. She had told me to move on. I had moved on. I found a beautiful woman, who loved me for me. So why was there a part of me that felt guilty? Like I had betrayed Brennan?

If it had been Bones, it wouldn't be this hard. I know exactly how I would have proposed too, whereas, Hannah, we didn't really have that many places significant to us, well other than Afghanistan.

I looked at the ring once more, wondering if she'd like it? If it was big enough? Sighing, I closed the lid with a little pop and set it on my dresser top, Bones was on her way over to pick me up. Perversely I wished I could talk it through with her, she was nothing if not pragmatic and logical, but I could not miss the pain that haunted her eyes whenever Hannah was mentioned.

She was more sadistic than I, surrounding herself with me and my girlfriend when it clearly hurt.

I didn't think I could have done that to her, but I was just like all the rest.

I abandoned her too.

And it was one more thing to hate about myself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N If you have read my stories before – you'll know that I usually write in first person POV and I usually like to tell both sides of the story – I know some people may not like this format, but I feel it adds more depth to the story telling. Thanks for reading.**

**Brennan**

I found myself immensely distracted by the discovery of the ring. I immersed myself in limbo, trying to blot the sadness I felt with the satisfaction that identifying cause of death could bring, but it was futile, and I found myself staring out the window at the snowflakes that floated lazily on the wind.

Being around him was too hard. Trying to pretend I was happy was too hard. Metaphorically opening my heart to him had been my biggest mistake, but also my salvation.

I turned away from the window, having come to a decision. I don't think I was strong enough to watch Booth propose to Hannah, to be around her, listening to her wedding plans. I was sad, a sadness I tried so hard to contain, yet it seemed to be seeping out of my, like roots from a tree, spreading through the soil.

I could not watch the man I love marry somebody else.

And I could no longer pretend, to be somebody even I didn't recognize.

**Booth**

Bones was quiet in the car. Too quiet. She had that little frown, pinching her forehead whenever she is troubled about something.

I knew the case would be giving her headaches, just like it was giving me headaches, we were so far away from a viable suspect, let alone any leads.

I sat at my desk, squeezing the life out of my stress ball, thinking of her. She hadn't said two words to me, answering my questions, but without a look in my direction.

It was driving me insane. Was I the root of this? Had she found the ring...?  
The ring, she could have found the ring.  
Throwing the ball against the wall, and exhaling loudly with a sigh, I picked up my jacket, and stormed out the office.

I didn't want to feel this way anymore.

I should be happy. About to propose to a gorgeous woman, start my dream life, but something was holding me back.

And I knew the answer just as surely as I knew this day would always end in heartbreak. It must be my gut.

My instinct.

Telling me I'd made the wrong choice...

**Brennan**

I walked around my office. Observed the obsessive neatness. The neatly stacked files. The muted light of the computer shining over the dust free surface of the desk.  
Elongated shadows on the cream wall from my various artifacts. I traced my finger over the zygomatic arch of the Pan Paniscus skull, wondering when it all became too much.

When I started to let myself feel.

Angela startled me, and I jumped as I turned around, her almond eyes filled with sympathy.

"I know there is something wrong Bren, and I'm not leaving here until you tell me."

She sat on my chair, a hand protective on her abdomen. I looked at her, at the faint smudges of tiredness painting her eyes, her glossy hair, mahogany streaked with chestnut in the light, her diamond engagement ring reflecting rainbow light as she rubbed her bump.

I stared at her ring, unable to stop the tears from piling up behind my eyes, waiting to fall, like raindrops.

My voice when I spoke was low, full of a pain I had tried to deny.

"He's going to ask her to marry him Angela."

The tears finally spilled, hot and fast down my cheek. I sat down on my sofa, unable to fight it any longer. I was tired of fighting my emotions. Tired they had been released from the gilded gold cage inside my chest. Metaphorically speaking.

Angela came over, and her lithe arm pulled me close, and as she soothed her hands over my hair, I cried.

"Sshhh Bren. It's ok. It's ok."

Her words were heartfelt, the plea was heartfelt, but I could not stop the hurt.

I missed my partner.

I missed my best friend.

I missed my chance at happiness only he could bring.

**Booth**

I went to the range in the hope that pounding bullet after bullet into a faceless paper target would help ease the indecision.

It didn't.

But it helped ease the aggression. It seeped out of me as my gun, which felt like an extension of my own hand fired shot after shot. The staccato was soothing. The tearing of the target was calming.  
And when I had emptied my round, seen the devastation my bullets had caused to the paper ghost, I threw the ear guards down on the bench and walked off.

It was time to ask the professional, as much as I didn't want to...


End file.
